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[The Distinguished Mr. Rose] Chapter 20: Do You Hear the Angel's Trumpet?
🕑 Added 2025-03-27 10:02:39 +0000 UTC———
Jack
When I was little, I used to daydream a lot. I’d go to school with my head up in the clouds, imagining myself on some grand adventure with all my favorite cartoon heroes, and I’d stay that way even when I got back home. Who didn’t at the time, you know? Flying through the sky with Superman, fighting the galactic empire, all kinds of fiction and worlds that just seemed so fantastical compared to real life… I was obsessed with it.
It didn’t help that I discovered anime during middle school. At the time I felt so cool because it was a niche that wasn’t really talked about that much. California was still all about comic books and sci-fi, so when I got a taste of these super unique shows that were different from the mainstream, it was like discovering gold. I found them. I wasn’t like the other kids. Anime was what made me unique. If I talked about it and became an expert in it, surely that would make me popular… right?
No. It didn’t. I learned that lesson too late.
In hindsight, I should’ve expected as much. I never really fit in with my peers growing up. It’s not like I was struggling or anything; I grew up in a typical middle-class family living in a typical middle-class neighborhood. I never went hungry, I didn’t need to study hard to get good grades, and my parents were, well, decent. It’s not that they abused me or anything - rather, they just… weren’t there in my life all that much. But that wasn’t all that uncommon. Dad would be off working his nine-to-five, spend his free time at the bars, and then come home at ten.
That’s just how it was for most people, I think. I was kinda lucky that he wasn’t an angry drunk - just tired drunk. I’d go weeks without seeing his face sometimes, and meanwhile my mom would be busy socializing with the other neighborhood ladies. I got the feeling she didn’t really like me for some reason. Mom never went out of her way to take me anywhere or spend time with me, but when it came to being a mother she didn’t slack off at least. I was fed on time, brought clothes when they got old, and had all my needs taken care of as if she was going through a checklist one by one. I was a prop to show the world her harmonious little nuclear family.
But like I said, that was normal. Everyone had families like that. The only one that wasn’t normal was me. I was a failure who couldn’t make a single friend: not in elementary school, not in middle school, and definitely not in high school. The thing was… I tried. I really did. But when I talked to people, something in me would deflate. Like, my social battery would drain almost in an instant. I could never hold a conversation for long, and even if I did manage to, there’d be moments where I ran out of things to say and then there’d be this really awkward silence. It stressed me out. I’d mutter and babble something stupid to try and keep it going, but in the end I’d break under pressure and run away.
That’s what I did for most of my life: run away. I ran from my problems, I ran when things got difficult, and I ran to my safe space of cartoons and anime and webnovels. Webnovels were the worst of them all. They scratched an itch for what I wanted most: to be special. I thought, you know, these characters were just like me. They were unfairly isolated; people hated them simply because they were better. That had to be the reason why I was alone, right? I was better, superior, and the whole world hated people like me because it was afraid of what I was capable of. Others needed to beat me down because they knew I would eventually surpass them.
That was my mentality, and it’s also why I became so addicted to webnovels. The protagonists of these stories didn’t let their enemies or society break them. No, they fought back and slaughtered anyone who got in their way. They could change; they weren’t limited by the things around them. When I inserted myself into these characters, it was like I was the one with all the power. It comforted me. At least, in these stories, I could pretend that I was someplace where I could be truly appreciated.
But reality was different. Here, I was just another cog in the machine. I had no control over my life; day after day, I worked myself to the bone under the whims of some out-of-touch corporate suit who knew absolutely nothing about their own job. After leaving my shift, I was hounded by bills. Expectations. Every little inconvenience would ruin my whole week.
Everything in the world was out to get me. I was so, so tired. Stuck. Knowing I’d be miserable like this for the rest of my life, unable to change, powerless as forces beyond my control spoiled everything that made me happy… I was just so done with it all.
At some point, I stopped enjoying webnovels. I still read them of course, but it was just something to pass the time. I didn’t feel that same happiness or joy as when I was a kid. Now, it was an outlet for me to pour out the worst parts of myself - something to dump my stress on even when I knew it’d never make me happy.
I was a loser. I still am a loser. That fact hasn’t changed even now. After finally getting the chance to break free from that insufferable, pathetic wreck of a man who always found an excuse to be bitter, I screwed it all up. And now I’m dead.
At least, I think I’m dead. I’d be kinda surprised if I wasn’t, especially with how hard Marco hit me. Man, that guy can land a punch. It felt like my brain exploded when he knocked me in the jaw - lights out! Jack’s all splayed about. I deserved it, though. I couldn’t think straight with all those damn voices shouting in my head. I knew there’d be consequences connecting with the maze, but I thought I was strong enough to handle it. That’s just but one of the many, many things I was wrong about.
But yeah, I’m deceased. Perished. So why am I still thinking so much? The afterlife isn’t really what I expected it to be. I should be either suffering in some molten pit of hell right now, or nothing at all. Instead it feels like I’m floating around in some vast, empty space, kinda as if I was dreaming. It’s nice here, much nicer than someone like me deserves.
But after a while, I start to feel a bit odd. There’s a warmth in my chest, stirring. My body’s getting hotter. I can feel air returning to my lungs, color surging into my eyes.
With a big, painful jolt, I snap awake.
A rank, foul stench invades my noise. It’s the familiar smell of the maze. Everything’s all blurry at first, but I recognize that dark red brick. This room is the one where I last saw Lucius.
Speaking of which, he’s sitting right in front of me…? Like, there he is. The man I thought dead is casually enjoying a cup of tea while l gawk at him as if I’ve seen a ghost. Which I’m pretty sure he is because, well, he’s dead.
Lucius chuckles and greets me with a bow.
“Good morning, Mister Thames,” he says. “My, isn’t it such a lovely day today?”
I try to respond, but all that comes out is a confused stammer.
“Dear me, there’s no need to rush yourself. We have all the time in the world.”
I gulp and do as he says. Right, I need to collect myself. Firstly, I should ask…
“... Are we dead? Is this the afterlife? Shit, you deserve a lot better than to be stuck here in hell with me.”
Lucius tuts. “Language, Mister Thames.”
“Sorry.”
“As for your question, I believe only you can answer that. Why don’t you give it a try? I’m sure there’s a method by which you can find out.”
What does he mean by that? Wait… there is one thing. But will it really work?
Well, there’s nothing else for me to do. May as well go for it.
I take a deep breath, and say aloud, “System!”
Without missing a beat, my status screen pops up clear as the day I first got it.
Jack Thames
Affiliation: Low-Rank Dimensional Realm ‘Milky Way’ Subsection 103 (Earth)
Level: 5
Ascension Status: Mortal
Species: Human
Age: 24
Class: All-Seeing Sage
— Stat Points —
Strength: 9 (+2)
Dexterity: 10 (+2)
Agility: 8 (+2)
Endurance: 12 (+2)
Magic: 17
Holiness: 7
Dark Arts: 19
— Skills —
*[Rank S] Eye of the Beholder (Passive): Grants the ability to look at the status screens of other players or hostile foes.
*[Rank S] The Ruler of Wealth (Passive): You will occasionally be drawn towards treasure or hidden opportunities.
*[Rank S] Your Talent Is Mine (Growth Type): Once per day, upon making physical contact with a person or creature, you may temporarily copy one of their skills. This skill will reset upon the start of a new day cycle.
— Equipment —
*Ring of Promise
Description: A ring that was once worn by the lady of House Germaine, said to be a wedding gift on the day she wed her beloved husband. After she perished due to an assassination plotted by a corrupt nobleman hoping to steal from the dukedom’s assets, the patriarch despaired and sought to bring her back by any means - no matter the taboo he had to commit.
While equipped, grants +2 to all physical stats.
“It’s… really there.”
A wave of thoughts quickly rush through my head. So, I’m not dead? How’d I even get here then?
Come to think of it, I don’t see the skill I copied from that fleshy blob. I turn to look at my arm and, yep, it’s back to normal—or as normal as you can get from being all mangled. At least it isn’t bleeding anymore, but if that thing is gone, then that would mean…
“Indeed, some time has passed since your unfortunate encounter,” Lucius says as if he read my mind. “Just a moment ago, I saw that ugly thing drop from your arm and slither away. It was quite the surprise.”
“That so?” Guess I should be glad it didn’t try to eat me while I was asleep, but there’s still one thing I'm unsure about.
“Lucius, are you, um, haunting me?” I ask. “Or maybe I’ve gone so crazy that I’m starting to hallucinate.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, the stylish gentleman flashes me a mysterious smile and beckons to his side.
“Why don’t you join me, Mister Thames? I am quite interested in your adventures thus far. Tell me all about it: the good, the bad, the ugly. Tell me everything.”
I still don’t really understand what’s going on, but something about Lucius’s voice makes me want to listen to him - to let go and spill all the fatigue I’ve tried so hard to push down.
It’s fine, even if he’s a figment of my imagination. I just want to talk to someone.
“... Well, where should I even start?” I say, plopping down onto the ground in front of him.
“Why, from the beginning of course!” he replies. “All good stories start from the beginning.”
I laugh. “Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s not a very good story.”
“Nonsense. All stories are good in the hands of the right storyteller, and who better to play such a role than the very man who wove it?”
“Touché.”
It’s kinda weird; I’ve only known Lucius for a few days, yet the time we spent together has felt like a lifetime. He is, or was I suppose, a man who seemed to know me even more than myself.
“Ah, one moment! I’ve forgotten the most important part.” Lucius reaches behind his back and pulls something out. It's a strange floral mask, which he quickly puts onto his face. The thing looks pretty creepy to be honest.
“What’s with the mask?”
“Do not mind me. Consider it my… sincerity. If you are to reveal your heart’s story, it is only fair for me to reveal my true self in return.”
I’m a bit unsettled, at first, but it’s kinda growing on me the longer I get used to it.
“You’re not some kind of demon wearing Lucius’s skin, are you?”
Lucius throws his head back and laughs. “Now that is very amusing, but I would have to say no. I doubt there’s anything in the world that could possibly replicate my dashing appearance.”
“True. You can pretend to be someone else all you want, but there’s no hiding what’s actually on the inside.”
“Is that what you truly believe, Mister Thames?”
I hesitate. How can I not, after all that’s happened?
“... When you died, something in me snapped. There was so much going through my head at the time, but above it all was this inescapable feeling of anger. I was angry, and hurt, and I thought that by getting revenge for you all these painful emotions would go away.”
“And how did that turn out?”
“Badly.” I lower my head and reminisce about my encounter with Marco and Mili. “I thought those two were already goners - that they’d be shambling around, mindless, like the other monsters. But when I actually did find them and I saw that they hadn’t changed at all, I… didn’t know what to do. Was I justified in trying to hunt them down after they got back their sanity? I didn’t know, so I let my body decide. It was easier to just let it consume me.”
“Do you regret it?”
I smile - a sad, bitter smile. “When Marco offered his hand, I should’ve taken it. I wanted so desperately to go back to our tight-knit party just like old times, but I knew it would never be the same even if we were to reconcile. I wanted us to be exactly like how it was before—stubborn, I know. It was a naive, spoiled wish, because the brat inside me was terrified of change: more so than the monsters, this maze, or even my own life.”
“I thought you wanted to change? To become a more confident version of yourself.”
“And that’s the joke of it all. When that chance finally came, I ran away. I became too used, too dependent, with my current self. I didn’t want to put in the effort if it meant that I’d have to be uncomfortable. In the end, I will always be my insufferable self. That is my true nature.”
I haven’t taken a single step from the man I was before this whole mess. I’ve been stuck in place, unable to mature or compromise, and that’s how it’s going to be until the day I die.
… But in the middle of feeling sorry for myself, Lucius interrupts with something surprising.
“Is that how you see yourself? In my eyes, you have already changed quite beautifully, Mister Thames.”
Me? I have?
“What do you mean?”
Lucius rubs his chin, before responding, “Let me ask you this. Would the Jack of before, the Jack still mindlessly toiling away in his unhappy office job, the Jack burdened by inferiority and self-loathing… would he have admitted to everything you’ve confessed? Would he have acknowledged, as you so put into your own words, that his true nature was that of a loser?”
I take a moment to process the question.
“No,” I eventually say. “He’d still be finding reasons to push the blame onto someone else.
“Exactly.” Lucius chuckles and gestures towards me with a wave. “So the you right now is different after all!”
“I… I guess you’re right.”
I am different. It may not be exactly as I’ve envisioned, but the me here, in this moment, has changed. He isn’t making excuses. He isn’t trying to run away.
For once in my life, I’m being true to myself.
“One of the most difficult things in the world for a man to do is admit when he is wrong,” Lucius says. “They ignore the feelings inside them - deny that they could ever do harm to the world. But humanity is an imperfect creature. They are both good and evil, righteous and hypocritical, and that is how it has always been. There is no need to be ashamed of it, for it is that very contradiction that allows them to create such wondrous art. Envy gives way to self-improvement. Pain gives way to compassion and empathy. When one realizes what lies within them, then can they finally accept their true nature—and change it. To start anywhere else save for the root will only lead to the branches being replaced over time.”
“You can’t change if you don’t know where to begin, right?”
“Precisely. Of course, there are also those who choose to remain the same - who, despite their new understanding, would rather turn back and delve deeper into their old fragile dissonance. But such people have a certain beauty to them as well. You, however, are not one of them.”
After listening to Lucius, the pressure that’s been weighing down on my heart for so long has just… vanished. Gone without a trace. I feel free, like nothing’s impossible for me anymore.
It’s a shame, a real damn shame that I’ve realized it only this late. Why? I think I’m going to die soon.
My stomach’s been tearing itself apart for a while now. It’s screaming and begging for food, and my body’s slowly heating up until every drop of blood feels like it’s been set on fire. My arm’s rotting; the spots where Marco hit me are turning purple; and my vision’s starting to blur.
This is it. It’s the end of the line for ol’ Jack. But… strangely enough, I’m not scared. I always thought dying would be this super terrifying moment full of regret. On the contrary, though, I’ve never been more at peace.
At least I’ll be able to go, content with the man I was finally able to become.
“Sorry, Lucius,” I mutter to him. “But this is probably goodbye.”
“... I see. You have resolved yourself, then?”
“Yeah. I don’t have any more regrets.”
“Very well then. If you are willing, then I have a proposal.” Lucius leans forward and offers me his teacup. There’s a flower seeped into the rich red liquid. Where have I seen it before? Oh, right. It was one of the flowers he picked inside our first treasure room. I think its name was…
“The Angel’s Trumpet,” he answers for me. “If you drink this, your passing will be quick and painless. That is all I can offer for you now.”
“Angel’s Trumpet, huh?” I take the cup from his hand, and stare at it. “I never did ask why it’s called that.”
“There are many stories. My personal favorite, however, is that it was named after a poor soul was unfortunate enough to have ingested it after a particular bout of hunger. It is said that in his last moments, he heard the music of heaven, and departed with a smile on his face.”
“The music of heaven… that sounds nice.”
I bring the cup up to my face. The smell is fragrant, refreshing, calm. One sniff is enough to melt away all my nerves.
I close my eyes, and I take a sip.
It doesn’t take long before I can feel my everything fade… away…
“Well, do you hear it, Mister Thames?”
I smile.
“No… It’s very… quiet…”
I’ve never been an honest person. Even in moments where I’m happy, I retreat back into myself, and I bottle everything up. Not one person in my life has ever seen the true me, except for a particular gentleman: the only one, after all this time, who’s accepted me for who I am. It’s only right that these last words are for you.
Thank you for being my friend, Lucius.
